Venom and Wine
by PuttingOutFireWithGasoliine
Summary: Loki has loved Weth since he was a child. When the God of Mischief and the Goddess of Anger fall in love, the couple becomes dangerous.
1. Chapter 1

She had first caught his eye when they were children. The daughter of Lady Frigga's maid, Weth could often be found seething in the obscure corridors of the Allfather's palace. She was notorious for her fiery temper; any perceived injustice sending her into a silent rage. She would tear tapestries or destroy her own dolls when angered, earning her a harsh scolding at least twice a week. She was quite a striking young girl, with wild, jet-black curls that extended past her shoulders, ivory skin, and irises that could only be described as golden. Her deceptively delicate features often took the members of Asgard's court by surprise; it was hard for them to fathom that such a sweet-faced little girl could behave so horribly. Of course, Loki did not mind her temper; he found it enthralling.

They first met in the servants' quarters within the palace, on a day that Loki decided to explore his vast home. He stumbled upon her in a small hallway, sitting in a corner with her brow scrunched in a fierce frown. Her eyes scalded him as she glanced upward. Though her face clearly depicted her fury, Loki was awestruck by her unusual beauty. Only a boy of eight years, he was unable to formulate a sentence with the exact poetry of his attraction, and butchered his first words to her.

"You look… different." He stuttered. She shrieked and attempted to throw the nearest blunt object at him. "Not _bad_ different!" He hurried to correct himself. She halted her movement, eyes boring into his.

"Are you the Prince?" She questioned. He nodded. He had never been referred to as _the _Prince; he relished her omission of Thor. She backed away slowly.

"What are you doing?" His eyebrow rose as he asked. She cast her eyes downward as she responded.

"I am not supposed to talk to the Princes."

"Why?" He continued his interrogation. Eyes still downcast, she replied.

"I am a maid's daughter." She did not say this humbly, but with palpable resentment. Loki cocked his head to the side, taking in the details of her face. Suddenly, a nearby door burst open, and the girl scampered down the hallway. A servant bustled into the hallway, yelping in surprise at the sight of Loki. He recognized the servant as one of his mother's maids.

"Oh my! Prince Loki, what are you doing in the servants' quarters?" Loki simply shrugged in response. The woman huffed before storming down the hall, a ripped tapestry in hand. "Weth?!" She hollered. Loki deduced that the woman was calling the girl's name.

"Weth," Loki said to himself. Loki stumbled upon her several more times throughout their childhood, each encounter piquing his interest further. Each exchange was brief and forbidden, which encouraged him to pursue it further. They eventually began calling each other by their first names only—no 'Prince', or 'Miss.'

Their teen years would yield even more interactions. As Weth aged, she became even more beautiful—at least to Loki. Her pale skin and ferocity generally did not attract the young men of Asgard. Loki found a similar reality in his case; the young women of Asgard wanted big, tan men, and although he was tall, he was unusually thin. His pale skin and sharp features stood out in a crowd, turning women away. Though he always found Weth beautiful, he did not develop a sexual attraction to her until the age of fourteen. When she developed breasts—large ones for her age—Loki could not resist any opportunity to see her. Even if they did not speak, he would watch her from afar, slack-jawed. The first time he pleasured himself, he thought only of her. She invaded his dreams, tempting him as he slept, and leaving him quite a mess in the morning. He never told anyone of his infatuation; it was far too intimate for anyone else to know.

He heard of her antics through other sources, smiling as servants complained about the havoc she wreaked. As she aged, she focused her rage on those around her. She tormented her peers with verbal—and on a few occasions, physical—assault. Loki had heard about the time that she slapped another teenage girl across the face; the girl had been mocking her appearance. Loki fumed as he heard this tale. He hated anyone who dared insult Weth's beauty. He fantasized about running away with her; Loki tired of Odin's favoritism towards Thor, and he knew that Weth did not enjoy her treatment in the palace.

Their encounters grew awkward during this period. Though he was called Silvertongue, Loki nearly always found a way to garble a sentence. He decided to impress her with his new skills in magic, which always made her smile. He loved her smile. Her soft lips would curve upwards innocently, but her eyes betrayed her inner roguishness. They were well matched, and were developing a sturdy friendship.

In the latter years of their teens, the two saw each other less frequently. Loki, now nineteen, had gained some muscle, lessening the severity of his lean frame. Overall, he had grown more handsome. His black hair grew towards his ears, and the measly patch of hair on his chest increased. He also noticed an increase in a lower region, making him quite a sizable specimen. Though less sexually frustrated than in his early teenage years, he still dreamed of Weth every other night. However, the dreams became noticeably more carnal in nature. With her perfect hourglass figure, Loki had a difficult time keeping his eyes on her face as they spoke. One instance stood out in particular.

Loki had intended to take a bath after spending the entire morning on horseback. He made his way to the palace bath house, grabbing a towel as he did so. The door was ajar, so he naturally assumed that the room was vacant. He had never been more wrong. He stepped inside, taking note of the steam, before his eyes landed on the woman in the water. She was softly singing to herself as she rinsed her hair. She must not have noticed the intruder, because she continued bathing, undisturbed. Loki froze in his tracks, his mouth wide open, as his eyes roved over her naked body. He felt his manhood engorge as he watched her breasts, completely exposed. It was then that her eyes fell on Loki, agape and with a massive erection. She ducked in the water to conceal her body, her eyes wide with shock. Loki couldn't even stammer out an explanation; he simply dropped the towel and ran. He reached his chambers in a matter of minutes, locking the door behind him before leaning against it. He could not erase the image in his head, and knew it would torture him until his dying day.


	2. Chapter 2

Loki shot straight up in his bed, a thick sweat coating his entire body. He had been dreaming of the day he barged in on Weth in the bath house—only with a significantly different outcome. He wished, in hindsight, that he had confessed his feelings then and there; that he had joined her in the water, and caressed her the way he did in his dreams. Alas, he dashed out of that room like a fool. Loki wiped his brow, ridding himself of the perspiration there. He glanced around his chambers, the early morning light forcing his eyes to adjust. In the golden glow of dawn, his vivid green sheets nearly matched his irises. A host of heavy mahogany bookcases flanked a sofa on the opposite end of the room. It was there that Loki spent most of his time. He whiled away the hours studying magic, and had grown to be the most skilled sorcerer in Asgard. In recent years, this was his only advantage over Thor.

Loki stretched, and nimbly leapt out of his large bed. He shuddered as his bare feet hit the cold stone below. From a nearby armoire, Loki selected his outfit for the day: leather trousers, boots, and a black button-down shirt—a perfect ensemble for an unremarkable day. He caught sight of himself in a nearby mirror as he dressed. Now in the latter half of his twenties, Loki was a remarkable creature. His features, which once seemed too severe, gave him a nearly elfish charm. His thick, raven locks hung loose around his head, stopping at his jaw line. Loki failed to recognize the pleasant aspects of his appearance; Thor's gargantuan muscles, bronzed tan, and fair hair caused every woman in the vicinity to ogle, thus ignoring his darker brother. Needless to say, Loki had poor self esteem. The only area of his body he somewhat liked was his abdomen; though not overly muscular, it was chiseled and sinewy. Loki closed the last fastening on his shirt before heading towards the banquet hall for his morning meal.

He strode down the various corridors of the palace, quickening his pace as his stomach growled. He nearly overlooked Weth as she cleaned a window at the opposite end of the hallway. Over the years, Weth had followed in her mother's footsteps and become a palace maid—not of choice, but due to the fact that her ill temper had prevented employment in other professions. Loki felt she had the potential to be a great warrior, but many believed her to be too volatile for the heat of battle. Cursing quietly to herself, Weth scrubbed at a stubborn spot on the glass. Loki froze in his tracks. Ever since that day in the bath house, he had been unable to formulate a coherent sentence when around Weth. Not that this mattered; she made no effort to speak to him after that incident. This brought him a searing pain that cemented his solitude. Their brief exchanges were the only conversations of interest to Loki, and without them, his days passed in a haze of apathy. Words perched on the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill out. His newfound nickname, Silvertongue, seemed like a cruel taunt at this moment.

Before he could utter some disjointed jumble of words, a man entered the hallway from a nearby servants' passage and sidled up to Weth. The man, whom Loki now knew to be a guard, whispered in her ear, his hand roaming over her lower back. Weth continued cleaning, pausing only to give the guard a playful smile. Having not noticed Loki standing a ways down the corridor, the guard squeezed Weth's right buttock, earning him a flirtatious smack on the arm. Loki felt his nails draw blood as they dug into the flesh of his palm. His eyes locked on a vase a few paces away, which he knocked over with a jealous vigor. The shattering of the ceramic caused the couple to start and turn towards Loki, who now trembled with rage. As the guard apologized for having misbehaved while on duty, Weth's golden eyes coldly accosted the Prince. Loki ignored the guard's ramblings and pushed past him, bumping his shoulder as he exited the hall. Appetite gone, Loki made his way to Thor's chambers, where he knew he would find his brother.

He squeezed the tears from his eyes as he tread through the palace. This had not been the first time he had seen her with that man. Twice before had he witnessed their playful interaction; but neither of those times had included the fondling that occurred moments before. Loki's head swam with images of Weth making love to that guard. He wanted to vomit. He ran his hand through his hair, closing his eyes and attempting to rid himself of the haunting visions in his head. When he opened his eyes, he found himself at Thor's door. He rapped three times, stinging his knuckles with the force. After a few unintelligible mumbles from within, the door opened to reveal his older brother, covered only by a sheet wrapped around his waist. Eyes half closed, he questioned Loki with a hint of irritation.

"What is it you want, brother?" he leaned against the doorway nonchalantly.

"I need to speak with you." Loki replied tersely.

"Did it not occur to you that I might have company?" Thor retorted. Loki rolled his eyes. His brother took a new woman to bed nearly every night.

"I would not care if you had a dozen women in your bed," he hissed, "I need to speak with you." Thor heaved a sigh before retreating into his bedchambers. After a few minutes, a haphazardly dressed blond scurried out of the room. Thor bade him entrance, and Loki stepped inside. As first-born and Odin's obvious favorite, Thor's bedchambers were much more luxurious than Loki's. With scarlet and gold furnishings—along with a massive four-poster bed—the room spoke to its occupant's ego. Loki stood near the doorway as Thor sat at the edge of his bed, now clothed in leather trousers.

"You have my attention." Thor quipped. Loki took a few moments before speaking.

"Where would I go to find a woman?" He gazed out the window at the opposite end of the room.

"A woman? Looking for a wife, are you?" He teased. Loki grit his teeth at his mockery.

"A whore." Loki spat. "A woman willing to give me whatever I desire." Thor's eyebrows rose.

"I believe I know a place for that."


	3. Chapter 3

Loki strolled through the evening chill, dressed in the garb of a servant and willing his inky locks to obscure his face. Thor had given him directions to a whorehouse in the village nearby, and Loki made arrangements to secretly pay a visit that evening. A heap of nerves accumulated in his stomach; he had never been with a woman, and was unsure of how to proceed. He approached the correct address hesitantly before knocking. A host of women's voices could be heard on the other side of the door; he anxiously bit his lip. The door opened and Loki was pulled inside, enveloped by a horde of painted, scantily-clad women. They stared at him expectantly, much to Loki's confusion.

"Make your choice." A buxom woman piped up. Loki scanned the group, his eyes stopping on a whore with raven hair—much like Weth's. He gestured in her direction, and she beckoned him into a room nearby. Once inside, she began stripping off the corset and panties that hardly concealed her figure. Loki froze at the sight of her naked body. Her caramel skin radiated sensuality, and her massive breasts dwarfed her otherwise petite frame. This woman looked nothing like Weth. Loki rid himself of his clothing, and stepped towards the woman. His hands instinctively reached out towards her hips, sliding around to cup her buttocks. She pushed him onto the bed across the room, and parted his legs. Her long, slender hands trailed down his abdomen, and gripped the base of Loki's manhood. He gasped.

"This will be difficult, considering your size." She stated, her tongue ghosting over her lips lasciviously. Before he could ascertain her exact intent, the whore's lips closed over the head of his member. Loki could not deny the filthy pleasure this brought him. She took him into her mouth, gagging slightly as he hit the back of her throat. Loki moaned and gripped her dark tresses. She began to pump her head, pushing him to the brink of ecstasy before releasing his swollen erection. Loki yearned for release. She bent herself over the bed and spread her legs. In his state of base need, Loki placed himself directly behind her, burrowing himself into her entrance. He pounded into her mercilessly, gripping her hips so tightly that his knuckles turned white. She cried out, her voice a strangled yelp. Loki's eyes rolled back in his head as he climaxed, filling the whore with his seed. He pulled away, disgusted with himself, and dressed himself hurriedly. He reached into the pocket of his trousers and tossed a cluster of coins in the woman's direction. Without turning back once, he ran back to the palace. Once in the safety of his chambers, Loki collapsed onto the bed. He could not erase what he had just done; nor could he erase the fact that he had done it in spite of Weth. After tossing and turning for hours, he drifted into an uneasy slumber.

He dreamt of Weth's cold eyes, her golden irises chilled by her rage. He dreamt of her in the bath house, completely exposed to his gaze. He dreamt of her being pleasured by the guard. He wanted to scream, to tear his heart out and bury it in the ice of Jotunheim, to forget that a woman could cause him such pain. She was an itch that could not be scratched, a breath that could not reach his lungs, a bitten tongue that could not heal.

Loki awoke the next morning in a cold sweat. The filth of his actions the night before clung to his skin like grime. He resolved to take a long, hot bath. Climbing out of bed and dressing in his casual garb, Loki made his way to the bath house that tortured him at night. He entered the room, the memory of Weth's naked body flashing across his vision. He disrobed, and jumped into the steaming water. He scrubbed at his flesh, attempting to rid himself of the imaginary grime. Loki dunked himself beneath the water, holding his breath for a few moments before rising. He turned his attention to the area that most desperately needed cleaning, and scrubbed up and down his shaft. The feeling of his cleansing caused him to moan, which was countered by a chuckle near the doorway. Loki whipped around to find none other than Weth standing at the edge of the heated pool. Immobile, he could only stare.

"I remember when you watched me bathe, peering out of the shadows like some randy warrior." She mused, twirling her silky locks. "Oh, how the tables have turned." She removed her shoes and sat at the edge of the pool, dipping her feet in the water. Loki remained anchored in place, slack-jawed.

"What are you doing?" he stammered. She grinned, her eyes glinting impishly.

"Is the God of Mischief really opposed to causing a little trouble?" she teased, her lips forming a sensual pout. Loki could hardly grasp the situation at hand. He could not form a response.

"I believe you thrive on causing trouble," she murmured, "I heard that you snuck out of the palace last night. Where did you go?" With each word, she scooted closer to the edge. Loki unconsciously moved toward her, pulled in by her magnetism.

"How do you know about that?" his eyes narrowed, and his heart raced. She smiled coyly.

"Servants see everything, my Prince." Their faces were mere inches apart. "So, where did you go?" Loki's stomach lodged itself in his throat.

"A… A… A wh—" before he could sputter out the words, Weth pressed a finger to his lips.

"You visited a whore, did you?" She shook her head in mock disapproval, and slowly dragged her finger down over his bottom lip. Her gold eyes were aflame.

"I did." He cast his eyes downward in embarrassment. This woman had such a strong power over him; he felt like a peasant in the presence of this maid. She cupped his chin in her small hand.

"There is no need for that." She whispered into his ear. Confused—and aroused by her proximity—Loki reached out to touch Weth's face. She permitted him the contact, smiling against his palm, before standing. She hoisted her dress above her head, exposing everything that was not covered by a negligible pair of panties. She then stepped out of the scant garment, and jumped in the water. Loki could not hide his erection at this point. She sashayed over to him, and placed her hands on his chest.

"Take me." These two words rocked Loki to the core. He did not understand why this was happening after so many years.

"Why? Why now?" His eyes were heavy with lust. She licked his jawbone.

"I know you have wanted me for years, and I want you. We should not ignore such a perfect opportunity." He pulled her into a tight embrace, and crushed his lips against hers. His hands wandered all over her body, settling on her breasts. He kneaded the tissue, eliciting sweet moans from Weth. Their mouths moved together, breaking apart only for short breaths. He moved his hands to her backside, which he squeezed firmly. Her tongue probed his mouth, and he passionately reciprocated. He relished the taste of her lips and tongue; he wished that their tongues would stay intertwined for eternity. She caressed his manhood, stroking the shaft before squeezing the sack. He moaned into her mouth. Loki grabbed her hips, raising her to his waist level, and impaled her on his member. She cried out in pain and pleasure, and Loki groaned as her walls stretched around him. He placed her buttocks against the walls of the pool, giving him better leverage to penetrate her. Her fingernails sliced the skin on his back, and he savored the pain. He picked up the pace, years of unspoken desire fueling his every move. Suddenly, he felt Weth clamp down around him—the most exquisite feeling in the world—and she called out his name, signaling her climax. Loki soon reached his, stars exploding behind his eyelids as he spilled into her. He held her for nearly an hour in that bath, stroking her hair and kissing her softly.


	4. Chapter 4

Their lovemaking in the bath house had ended when Thor stumbled in, unaware that the room was occupied. Loki, still embracing Weth, made eye contact with his brother and cursed loudly. Thor backed out of the room, wide-eyed, leaving the lovers in awkward silence. Weth was the first to speak.

"I should go." She ran her hands over his shoulders. "I should return to my work." Loki nuzzled her neck, savoring the intimate contact, before nodding in concurrence. She pressed her lips against his in a lingering kiss, which Loki was reluctant to break. Weth pushed herself up onto the edge of the pool, and began to clothe herself. Loki admired her body as she moved.

"When can we meet again?" Loki asked as she finished dressing. He stood at the edge of the water, gazing up at her. She bent at the waist so that their faces were on the same level.

"Whenever you would like." She kissed him once more before exiting the room. Loki wished to know exactly what caused her change in behavior towards him, but was afraid that asking would drive her away. He knew very well the volatility of her moods. He pulled himself from his thoughts and finished bathing. Weth had certainly not made him cleaner. He hastily donned his forgotten garments and made his way towards the banquet hall. He found himself ravenous after his previous activity. Upon entry, he was bombarded by Thor, who had been dining on a leg of mutton. Thor pounded his back and laughed heartily, giving Loki a knowing wink.

"One night at the whorehouse and another round in the bath; you are certainly shaping up to be a skirt chaser!" His obtuse commentary made Loki grimace. Thor was accompanied by his usual band of warriors, who were seated at the large table in the center of the room. They heard Thor boom his heavy-handed compliment, and chuckled—not without winking and bumping elbows. Loki inhaled deeply to soothe his irritation.

"Tell me brother, what woman did you roger in the bathroom?" Thor shamelessly pried. Loki uneasily shifted his weight from foot to foot. He did not want to reward Thor's behavior with a response, but silence would exacerbate their strained relationship.

"A maid." Loki decided that this was a safe answer. Thor, however, was not satisfied.

"Did you ask her name? Many maids are more than happy to pleasure their superiors. That does not narrow down the list of possibilities." Loki clenched his jaw for a moment before responding.

"Weth." He mumbled. Thor knit his brow in confusion.

"Is that the girl with the dreadful temper?" Loki objected to his description, but nodded. Thor, astounded, let his mouth hang open. "Well…" Thor thoughtfully rubbed his beard. "I do suppose she has a lovely backside." Loki dug his nails into his palm. Seemingly content with the information presented, Thor returned to his friends. Loki seated himself, and sated his hunger with a plateful of beef. Once finished, he swiftly journeyed to the servants' quarters. The evening sun streamed in through the glass windows as he searched for the nearest maid. Before long, a middle-aged servant passed by, carrying an assortment of cleaning materials. Loki stopped him.

"Where is Weth, the maid?" He inquired. The man responded with evident surprise.

"She is cleaning the Great Hall." Loki turned on his heel, and strode towards his new destination. He burst into the room, startling a few maids in the corner. He recognized Weth among them, and approached her.

"Do you love me?" He demanded of her. Her golden eyes revealed her shock. "Do you love me?" He repeated himself with earnest. Wary of her fellow maids, she weakly nodded. "Say it."

"What—" She did not even finish the word when Loki interrupted.

"Say that you love me." Loki felt a burning, needy desire in his chest.

"I love you." Her face betrayed a hint of fear. Loki exhaled, realizing that he had been holding his breath.

"I love you too, Weth." His confession lifted a burden he had felt for years. "Forget your duties for the evening." His tone softened, and he extended his hand in invitation. Weth stepped forward, taking his hand in hers. Loki kissed her knuckles and gently pulled her towards the door. They stepped into the hallway, and Loki guided Weth in the direction of his bedchambers. They walked in contented silence, and Loki could feel Weth softly squeeze his hand. He smiled, utter bliss warming his soul. When they were within twenty paces of his door, Loki grabbed Weth and tossed her over his shoulder.

"Ah, I see you were not satisfied by our encounter earlier today." She muttered, her upper half hanging over Loki's shoulder.

"I was extremely satisfied," Loki returned, "but I want to properly make love to you." He playfully swatted her backside, causing her to purr. He crossed the threshold into his bedchambers, closing the door behind him. He deposited Weth in the center of his bed, her black curls sprawling over the emerald sheets. He admired her for a moment before crawling on top of her. His eager lips found hers, and their tongues intertwined. Weth clawed at the front of his shirt, tearing it open and tossing it to the floor. Loki relished her ferocity. He returned the favor by yanking her dress up to her waist and pulling it over her head. Loki growled as he appreciated her body. Her breasts were covered by a lacy brassiere, and she wore a matching set of underwear. Loki removed her brassiere and ran his tongue over her rosy peaks. She moaned, reaching for the front of his trousers. She fondled him through the leather, giving him a firm squeeze. He dragged his fingertips down her abdomen, towards her lacy panties. He palmed her most intimate region, her warmth driving him wild. Loki pushed the flimsy fabric to the side, stroking her wetness. He tore her panties off of her hips, revealing her body entirely.

"May I taste you?" He searched her eyes for an answer. She gave him a devilish grin and nodded. Loki tentatively moved his mouth towards her heat, his lips meeting her soft skin. They both groaned at the contact. His tongue slipped past his lips, diving into her folds. Valhalla itself could not compare to the taste of her sweet womanhood. Loki felt his now-prominent erection strain against his trousers, and quickly rid himself of his remaining clothing. He situated himself at her entrance, and stared deep into Weth's eyes as he penetrated her. They made love into the early hours of the morning, alternating in positions. Loki made it his goal to bring Weth to ecstasy as many times as possible, climaxing multiple times as he did so. When they finished, Loki curled up behind Weth under the sheets. He held her close, caressing her as his thoughts wandered.

"Darling?" He whispered into the darkness.

"Yes?"

"Will you promise your fidelity to me?" He thought of the guard who had fondled her in the hallway.

"Only if you promise yours to me." She stated.

"I promise." Loki assured.

"Then I will make that same promise." She kissed the palm of his hand and dozed off. As Loki drifted into a heavy slumber, he could only hope that she kept true to her word.


	5. Chapter 5

Weth spent many long nights in Loki's bed, thrilling him with every touch. Loki not only enjoyed their physical love; he felt a unique connection to her that few others could understand. Their hours together were punctuated by playful bites—hard enough to leave marks—and bouts of wrestling that left both parties bruised. Loki did not mind the small injuries; he knew that Weth did not wish him true harm. They confided in one another, and comforted each other when their confessions proved too painful to bear alone. Loki did not wear his heart on his sleeve, but was content to expose his soul to his lover. He told her of his resentment toward his family, Odin's blatant favoritism of Thor, and his desire to be King. She always listened, holding his hand as he spoke. This simple touch signified their love and understanding. Loki returned the gesture when Weth opened her heart to him. He held her close as she revealed that she was the result of an unwanted pregnancy, that her father left when she was four, and that her mother still blamed her for his decision to abandon them. They shared each other's pain in addition to their delight.

Loki loved Weth, flawed as she was. He was always patient when her moods shifted, stroking her jet black curls as soon as he saw that change in her eyes. She rarely lashed out at Loki, her anger generally channeled at her peers or herself. She could be extremely self-deprecating, yanking at her own hair or scratching her skin as she declared hatred towards herself. On these particular instances, Loki would restrain her hands, begging her to stop doing herself harm. Though he wished that she would love herself, it would be hypocritical of him to tell her so; he fostered a similar self-loathing.

One evening, Loki felt an unusual distance from Weth. They had made love several times that night, and Weth had given him oral pleasure for the first time. Normally, the two would hold each other as they slept, but Weth had scooted herself toward the edge of the bed, her back facing Loki. Loki noted the distance, and feared that he had pushed her too far in their sexual exploits. He followed her to the far end of the bed, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her temple. She stiffened.

"Weth, have I angered you?" His voice was full of concern as he recounted the night's events. He did not force her to service him; in fact, she had initiated the event by grabbing hold of his manhood during a markedly sensual wrestling match. Before he could apologize for whatever it was he may have done, Weth swiftly turned to face him. She did not respond, but the fearful look in her eyes kept him silent. After a moment, she spoke.

"Am I mad?" A tear threatened to spill from the corner of her eye. Loki empathetically stroked her cheek as he formulated his answer.

"My love, if you are mad, then so am I." She smiled sadly. Loki pulled her tight against his chest, nuzzling her cheek as he continued. "And if we are mad, then I would rather die than be sane. Come now, my sweet, let me hear your beautiful laughter." He shifted onto his back, pulling her with him to straddle his hips. "What can I do to make you smile, my pet?" She bit her lower lip as he rubbed her thighs. Loki slapped the right cheek of her buttock, causing her to gasp.

"Loki!" Weth blushed, encouraging Loki to persist in teasing her. He pinched at the soft flesh around her abdomen, tickling her. She smiled and attempted to back away from his bothersome ministrations, but Loki sat up and grabbed hold of her hips, holding her in place. In this position, Loki's eyes were just below Weth's breast level. He placed a hot, wet kiss just above her navel, leaving an irritated mark. She ran her hands through his hair, pulling his head back so she could lean down to kiss his lips. He groaned as her tongue probed his mouth. Breaking the kiss, Loki admired the spot he had left on her abdomen.

"Weth, as much as I am enjoying this position, I still have not heard you laugh." She stuck out her tongue at him, and he pounced. Pinning her to the bed with one hand, Loki hoisted her leg over his shoulder. He extended her leg entirely, and licked the back of her kneecap—her most ticklish region. She giggled, attempting to stifle the noise by biting the knuckle of her index finger. Loki began to nibble at the sensitive skin, and Weth cackled uncontrollably, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to breathe. Loki smirked, satisfied with his work, and released her leg.

"I love it when you laugh. It is far too rare of an occurrence." Having regained her composure, Weth crossed her arms.

"Is that all you want from me, Odinson? My laughter?" She teased, pursing her lips. Loki chuckled, sliding his hands up and down her legs.

"Well, there is something else that I very much desire." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Weth scoffed and smacked his chest.

"Darling, you are almost as boorish as you brother." The comparison to Thor stung Loki like a smack across the face. Seething, he retreated to the periphery of the bed, turning away and pulling the sheets over his body. A few moments later, he felt Weth's weight shift on the bed, and a warm hand rest on his upper arm. He gritted his teeth.

"I did not mean that," Weth's voice was tinged with regret. "I am sorry. You are nothing like your brother. I would not love you if that were the case." Loki exhaled, letting go of his anger.

"There is no need to apologize. I know you did not mean what you said." He covered the hand on his arm with his own. Weth joined him beneath the covers, pressing her supple body against his back as she encircled his waist with her arms. She kissed his shoulder blade softly, and Loki melted in her embrace. She mumbled something indistinct into his back.

"I did not understand a word of that," Loki chuckled as he spoke. She sighed, and repeated herself.

"Is there not something you can do about your predicament?" Loki was caught off guard by this question.

"Such as…?" He darkly replied.

"You are the God of Mischief. Surely you could find some way to improve your status." She rubbed his shoulders as she responded.

"There is no honorable solution." He cryptically worded his answer, testing the waters.

"Honorable? My, my, I never thought that Silvertongue would be concerned with honor."

"And what would my Lady suggest?" Loki was consumed by curiosity.

"Well," she began, "if I wanted the throne—and I was the next rightful heir—I would find some way to remove the first in succession." Loki felt an excitement growing in the pit of his stomach. This was not the first time that this particular idea had occurred to him; he had mulled it over throughout the years. That this incredible woman was spurring him on made him want to act on it even more.

"Are you proposing that I murder Thor?" He mockingly scorned her.

"Certainly there is a less brutal alternative. Think it over." She pecked his cheek before making herself comfortable for the night. Loki's thoughts raced as he listened to her breathing grow heavier with sleep. When he dozed off, he dreamed of a thousand different schemes to gain the throne.


	6. Chapter 6

In the time that Loki spent without Weth, the thought of usurping Thor claimed his mind. He brooded silently as he went about his daily activities, inconspicuously eyeing his brother at mealtimes. He watched Thor's arrogance grow by the day, and was given explanation upon being called to the throne room later that week. Odin had commanded the guards to leave the chamber, allowing for privacy between him and his son. Loki felt a bitter nausea before Odin began to speak.

"My son," Odin gazed down at him through his stormy blue eye—the other having been gouged out in battle years ago—and Loki noted the striking resemblance to Thor's irises. "Every man must accept the fate he is given. To be King is simply not your fate." Loki swallowed; he felt as if a rock had been wedged in his throat. His emerald eyes burned as they bored into his father's.

"I cannot say that this was unexpected." The words, cold and calculated, poured past his lips. The muscles in Odin's face softened as he returned Loki's gaze. He had aged a great deal over the years, his hair now silver instead of straw-colored. Wrinkles lined his face, giving him the façade of a weak old man. Loki turned on his heel, and made his way towards the massive golden doors of the throne room.

"Loki," Odin softly called after him. He half-heartedly looked back over his shoulder, waiting for his father to speak. "I am sorry." Loki suppressed a scoff as he pushed the doors open, making his exit. He strode, stone-faced, towards his bedchambers, where he succumbed to a fit of rage. He balled his hand into a fist and struck the stone wall; he heard a pop from his knuckle as a white hot pain travelled up his arm. He winced and thumped his forehead against the stone, cursing the stupidity of his previous action. He flew to one of his bookshelves, yanking a thick tome from its place and tearing it asunder. He watched the shreds fall to the floor, smirking at the destruction. He glanced down at his injured hand; the knuckles had flushed purple with bruising.

He collapsed in the center of his bed, glaring up at the ceiling. He fantasized about tearing Thor's hair out, strand by strand. He had always hated those flaxen locks, gold as his perfect world—the opposite from his own. He loathed Thor's tan skin, bronzed from basking in the praise of his parents and admirers. He despised those striking blue eyes, a cruel reminder of Odin's influence. An hour or so later, Loki heard a faint knock on his chamber door. He exhaled heavily, and received his guest. He found Weth leaning against the door frame, smiling up at him. He guided her inside, his hand resting on the small of her back. He tilted her chin upward to give her a proper greeting, but she placed her fingers on his lips. Her eyes grew concerned as she took in his face.

"What is wrong, love?" He absentmindedly kissed her fingertips before responding.

"Thor will officially be King of Asgard." His cleared his throat to overcome the wavering of his voice. Weth's eyes brimmed with tears as if his pain was her own. She stroked his sharp cheekbones, a drop leaking from the corner of her eye.

"I am so sorry." Loki swiped away her tear.

"It is not you who should be sorry," he murmured. Her delicate fingertips moved to comb through Loki's hair. Loki often wondered if this woman knew magic; her simple touch proved far too much comfort.

"What can I do, darling?" She kissed along his jaw.

"Please touch me." Her brow knit slightly in confusion. "Your touch is all I want to feel." She smiled softly and kissed his lips before gingerly running her hands over his shoulders. The gentle sensation was hard to feel through the thick fabric of his clothing, and Loki hastily disrobed. He stood, completely naked, in the center of the room. Weth glided her hands down his front, rubbing the taut muscles of his abdomen while coyly biting her lip. Her fingers soon met with the trail of black hair that led from Loki's navel to the small forest surrounding his manhood. She dragged her hand lower, ghosting over the base of his half-erect member, before scratching lightly at his upper arms.

"Minx," he ribbed.

"You love the way I tease," she purred, licking her lips. He could feel the blood rushing to his rod, now standing at attention. Weth stepped closer, taking Loki's bottom lip between her teeth. His throbbing erection poked her stomach, and she cooed her approval. Weth pushed him backward until he sat at the edge of the bed.

"May I borrow a pillow, darling? I would rather not kneel on the cold floor." Loki leaned backward, snatching the nearest pillow and handing it to her.

"Are you going to…?" His eyes were wide with excitement as she knelt on the pillow. She smirked, and ran her tongue up his shaft, causing Loki to whimper.

"Did that answer your question?" She winked before taking him into her mouth entirely. Loki's head fell back, his lips parted as he growled her name. What she could not fit into her mouth was taken care of by her wonderfully soft hands. She began to pump up and down, and Loki fisted his hand in her raven curls. She moaned around him, sending vibrations straight to his core. After a short while, Loki craved more friction. He stood, Weth between his legs, and began thrusting into her mouth. She clawed at his thighs as his member knocked against the back of her throat. He held her head in place as he plunged into her mouth, once, twice, and spilled his warm seed within. Spent, he sat back down on the bed. Weth swallowed the liquid and gasped for air. Loki reached out to pet her now bedraggled locks.

"Thank you, my love. That was absolutely incredible." She wiped her mouth and smiled.

"My pleasure," she said, crawling into his lap. He pulled her close, and pressed his lips to hers, tasting himself on her tongue.

"When I am with you, I often forget about my troubles." He whispered into her ear.

"As do I." She paused before continuing. "Has a coronation ceremony for Thor been scheduled?" She inquired, golden eyes glinting.

"Not as of yet," Loki responded. "The ceremony will be a perfect time to act."

"I thought the same. Have you decided what you will do?" She looked so eager for such a dastardly task.

"I believe I could convince some Frost Giants to interrupt the festivities."

"You believe you could convince Laufey?" Her words were riddled with skepticism. Loki bristled at her tone.

"I have been named Silvertongue for a reason, darling."

"I was under the impression that you were given that name in recognition of your tongue's… other talents." She grinned wickedly, and Loki chuckled.

"My dear, those other talents are reserved for you alone." He squeezed her backside and nipped at her shoulder. She met his gaze for a weighty moment.

"Please be careful," her voice had lost its playful quality, "I could not bear to lose you."

"I will." He assured. "Now, my sweet, I have been utterly satisfied, but it would seem that your needs have not been met." He tossed her towards the middle of the bed, and tugged at the hem of her skirt. "If you would remove this, I would be more than happy to demonstrate my tongue's 'other talents.'"


	7. Chapter 7

Loki knew that the date would soon be set for Thor's coronation, and focused his energy on honing his skills in battle. His plan to secretly meet with King Laufey was fraught with risk, deeming it necessary for him to be prepared for an assault. Weth volunteered to be his sparring partner; in their heated wrestling matches, she had proved herself to be a capable fighter. Loki was at first hesitant to accept her offer. He could only imagine each bout ending in torrid love-making—for once, he found this to be a problem. However, he decided that practicing with Weth would be an exercise in both physical ability and determination; if he could remain focused on fighting while she tempted him, then certainly no Frost Giant could break his concentration.

Loki had always been exceptionally skilled as a sorcerer, but his expertise increased with each match. He soon mastered the ability to generate an exact copy of himself, and then dissolve it with a wave of his hand. This particular spell originally alarmed Weth; when the duplicate restrained her from behind, she shrieked and struck at the attacker's genitals. Once her initial shock wore off, she seemed to find the trick quite intriguing. Loki almost felt a pang of jealousy as she touched the replica's face, ensuring its authenticity. He would never forget the look she gave him as she squeezed the front of its trousers. He resolved to use this new ability in the bedroom.

He soon found himself to be rather proficient with daggers. He would never dream of using them on Weth, so he found other targets. This forced them to no longer practice in abandoned corridors of the castle; they moved their exercises to a hilly area beyond the nearby village. Weth would find various objects for Loki's training, ranging from hay bales from the palace stables to pieces of meat from the kitchens. He became quite skilled at throwing his knives, and his targets grew smaller by the day.

In this time, Weth also became a respectable fighter. She did not know magic and was not skilled with the weapons Loki provided, but she could use her body to compensate for these deficits. She had quick reflexes and a natural flexibility that made it easy for her to knock Loki flat on his back. Weth could block a strike while simultaneously sneaking her ankle around the back of Loki's leg, kicking his heel out from under him and causing him to lose his balance. He adored the savage look in her eye as she fought, her black curls whipping through the air. He felt proud of his lover; he knew that, no matter how hard he tried, Thor would never be able to gain the affection of such a powerful, wondrous woman.

She filled his life with surprises, be it an adventurous streak in the bedroom, an affinity for the rebellious, or an athletic new move in their sparring matches. She nursed his darker side, encouraging mischief and supporting his plans to take the throne. He often wondered where her moral boundaries lay.

"This is your next target." Weth held an apple in the air, not a foot from her head. Loki had been throwing daggers at apples for a week's worth of practices, and had finally been able to hit them three consecutive times. When Weth did not set the apple on the nearby hay bale, Loki's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Strike the apple from my hand." Her eyes burned wildly as she continued to hold the apple in the air.

"No." Loki's voice echoed throughout the hills. Weth arched her eyebrow.

"And why is that?" Her voice dripped with the seductive tone she used to egg him on.

"Weth, I will not throw my dagger in your direction. There is far too great of a chance that you will be harmed." She huffed as he spoke.

"Loki, darling," she said, "suppose I found myself in a situation where I was unable to protect myself. Would you save this damsel in distress?"

"Of course," Loki instinctively responded.

"Well then, my sweet," she continued, "my attacker could be even closer to me than this apple. I would like to know if you can hit the target—my attacker—without harming me." Loki stifled a scoff, but knew that she would not drop the matter. He heaved a sigh.

"Alright," he acquiesced, "I will do it. Stay completely still." She smiled and adjusted her grip on the apple, holding it between her thumb and index finger. Loki leaned back, gathering momentum to throw his dagger. Anxiety flooded his stomach. He lunged forward, flicking his fingers as the dagger left his palm and soared through the air. The blade dove into the center of the fruit, knocking it out of Weth's hand. She grinned, holding up her empty hand to expose the unscathed flesh. Loki exhaled, having held his breath during the process.

"Shall we retire for the evening?" She placed her hands on her hips as she spoke. Loki nodded, crossing the grassy area to link arms with Weth. As they walked back to the palace, he admired her figure out of the corner of his eye. For their spars, Weth had stolen pants and a shirt from a fellow servant. To Loki's enjoyment, she had grabbed a set of clothing that was too small for her figure. The trousers clung to her thighs and buttocks, accentuating her shapely hindquarters; the shirt could not button all the way over her breasts, revealing a scandalous amount of cleavage. She caught sight of him ogling her chest, and smacked him on the arm. He chuckled and wound his arm around her waist. As they approached the palace, Loki spotted a sizable crowd gathered out front. He could hear Odin's voice booming in the distance, catching the last sentence of his speech.

"…the coronation ceremony will be held in a week's time!" The crowd roared in delight. Weth encircled her arms around Loki's waist, pulling him close. He felt his heart drop into his stomach. The date had been set. He looked down into Weth's sympathetic eyes, tucking a wild strand of hair behind her ear.

"I will speak to King Laufey tomorrow." He murmured. She bit her lip, her brow knit in worry. He kissed her forehead.

"Please return safely." She buried her face in his chest.

"This will not be our last night together," he assured. "I will return tomorrow evening, and I will make love to you until you forget your own name." He pinched her buttock, attempting to lighten the mood. Her eyes remained entirely serious.

"Do you promise?" Her voice wavered.

"Dove, when I am finished with you, you will not be able to feel those lovely legs of yours." She reluctantly smiled.

"I should have specified; do you promise that this will not be our last night together?"

"You have my word." He kissed her softly, and they returned to the palace.


	8. Chapter 8

Loki attended a ball that evening in honor of Thor. He occupied himself with food and wine, only breaking his silence to offer Thor his insincere congratulations. He did not make love to Weth that night; he simply held her close as his thoughts wandered. When he slept, he had horrible visions of Frost Giants tearing him to pieces. He awoke early in the morning, drenched in a cold sweat. Weth slept beside him, clothed only in a green silk robe she had pilfered from Loki's wardrobe. He watched her in silence for a few moments; his eyes travelled from her face, peaceful with sleep, to her right breast, uncovered by the silk, to her navel. He rose from the bed, clothing himself in casual garb—keeping in mind the frigid temperature of Jotunheim. When finished, he crossed to Weth's side of the bed, seating himself at the edge. He tenderly stroked her cheek, causing her to stir. Her eyes cracked open, heavy with sleep. She rubbed her eyes and gazed up at him. Loki's voice caught in his throat.

"My love," he began, "it is time for me to visit Jotunheim." She shot up, burying her face in the crook of his neck and throwing her arms over his shoulders. He pulled her into his lap, kissing her face. Her golden eyes penetrated his gaze, full of sadness and worry.

"I love you, Loki." She pressed her lips to his in a passionate kiss.

"I love you, too." He said, breaking the kiss. He lifted her in his arms and set her at the head of the bed as he stood. He kissed her once more before exiting the chambers and making his way out of the castle.

He headed towards the Bifrost, only to be stopped by Heimdall, its guardian. It became apparent that Heimdall would not allow Loki to pass into Jotunheim. Loki cursed himself for his stupidity, and walked back into the palace. He decided to employ his skills as a sorcerer. At a young age, Loki had learned a cloaking spell; over the years, he had managed entire invisibility. With this spell in use, he snuck past Heimdall, and crossed into Jotunheim.

The glacial wind stung his face as he took in his surroundings. A hefty gloom dominated the entire atmosphere, the ice illuminated by a dull blue light. Towering spires of ice imposed on the landscape, warning intruders of its inhabitants. Loki strode towards a gargantuan archway, searching for any sign of Frost Giants. He trudged through snow, entering a circular, roofless room of ice. His eye caught movement in rubble nearby, and he stopped in his tracks. Two creatures hunched in the shadows, their piercing red eyes catching the light every now and then. Their blue bodies, rigid and jagged, stood far above any Asgardian. These were, without a doubt, Frost Giants. Loki spoke, his cloaking spell still employed.

"In six days' time," he began, the Giants starting at the sound of his voice, "Thor Odinson will be crowned King of Asgard. Then will be a perfect time to storm the castle."

"And why should we trust a man who dare not show his face?" The Giant's voice was deep and ragged. Loki paused, gathering his thoughts.

"I promise Asgardian treasure in exchange." The Giants looked at one another.

"We will speak to our King." The other Giant growled. Loki turned, satisfied with the interaction, and headed back toward the Bifrost. He snuck around Heimdall once more, breaking into a run as soon as he reached the palace gates. He did not stop running until he reached his bedchamber, where he turned off his cloaking device. By this time, it was late afternoon. He hoped that his risk would be worth his while.

He paced around his bedroom for the remainder of the afternoon, noticing that Weth had left his silk robe neatly folded at the foot of his bed. He picked up the garment, and inhaled its scent; it smelled like Weth, a floral aroma intermingling with the soap she used. This simple scent calmed his nerves, and he sat on his sofa, grabbing a book from the nearby shelf. He absentmindedly skimmed the tome, a book of magic—one he had read a dozen times. As the sun set, he heard a hesitant knock on his door. He set the book aside, and stood to cross the room. He cracked the door open, gazing into those eyes of gold he so adored. Weth's posture immediately relaxed, and her face broke into a wide grin.

He pulled her inside, pushing her against the door as he locked his lips with hers. She sighed into the kiss, her hands tangling in his jet black locks. He hoisted her up against the wooden surface, her legs wrapping around his waist as his lips found her neck. She moaned, gripping his shoulders. He lifted her higher, his left hand pulling down the front of her dress so he could bury his face between her breasts. He groaned into her soft flesh, feeling his manhood engorge. He tossed her over his shoulder, carrying her to the bed. He plopped her down, watching her breasts bounce as she hit the mattress. She moved to her knees, whipping her dress over her head. She kicked off her shoes, and slid her panties down her legs, tossing them over the edge of the bed. Loki pulled his shirt off, a wicked idea filling his mind. He removed his boots and yanked off his pants. Standing in only his underwear, he conjured a duplicate of himself. Weth gasped as the duplicate appeared behind her, its hands sliding over her thighs. She smirked, and leaned back against its chest. The duplicate moved its right hand between her legs, stroking her womanhood. Loki's erection stood at full attention as she closed her eyes and whimpered.

He used his magic to switch places with the duplicate, immediately feeling her warmth as he rubbed her nether regions. His fingertips found her sensitive bundle of nerves, and began circling the sweet spot in quick motions. Loki watched as goose bumps spread across her skin, her nipples tightening. She bit her lip, moaning louder and louder as she reached her climax. She writhed as it overtook her, growing limp in his arms. Loki internally commanded the duplicate, now at the edge of the bed, to strip completely. It obeyed, stepping out of its underwear and crawling on top of Weth. She was sandwiched between the two; Loki kissed her temple as the replica kissed her lips.

"Darling?" He whispered into her ear.

"Yes?"

"Will you suck me while he takes you from behind?" Loki growled in her ear, his voice dripping with lust. She nodded, turning to face him. She tugged his underwear down, exposing his hard member, and began using that wonderful mouth of hers. Loki leaned his head back, her name slipping past his lips. The duplicate positioned itself behind her, entering her with a sharp thrust. She moaned around his rod as the replica pummeled her from behind. Loki switched back into the body of the duplicate, her body tight around him as he pumped his hips.

After a few minutes, Loki waved away the duplicate, leaving Weth's mouth empty. He continued to thrust into her, the sounds of their flesh driving him wild. She rested her forearms on the bed, her buttocks in the air as he made love to her. She cried out, clamping around him, and they simultaneously climaxed. Loki removed himself from her, and collapsed onto the bed. The two caught their breath.

"Was my mouth not pleasurable?" She inquired, still panting.

"Darling, it was exquisite." He returned. "I simply wanted to focus on bringing you to ecstasy." She smiled, and gave him a warm kiss before moving under the sheets. Loki followed, enveloping her in his arms as he drifted off to sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

Loki's plan proceeded smoothly. The Frost Giants took advantage of his suggestion, interrupting Thor's ceremony just before Odin declared him King of Asgard. Loki had been standing on the sidelines, ignoring his mother's concerned gaze, when Odin turned his attention to the intrusion. Loki could not suppress a smirk. The Giants had infiltrated the bowels of the palace, in search of the Casket of Ancient Winters—the source of their power, which Odin had taken at the end of the Great War. Loki had not planned for this specific outcome, but welcomed it nonetheless. They were not successful in their attempt to steal the Casket, but the fiasco had rattled Odin and enraged Thor.

Loki had imagined a scenario in which the Frost Giants pummeled Thor to death—or at least until he was too weak to assume the throne. While this did not happen, the interruption of his special day left Thor hungry for revenge, sparking a wicked idea in Loki's mind. He subtly prodded at his fuming brother, planting the seeds of vengeance in his simple mind. He was more than thrilled when Thor announced his plan to invade Jotunheim—unbeknownst to the Allfather. Loki followed Thor and his band of warriors into the land of the Frost Giants, his silver tongue conjuring a façade of sympathy and righteous anger. Little did his brother know, Loki tipped off Heimdall as they made their way to the Bifrost.

As they faced King Laufey himself, Loki felt his palms moisten with sweat. The Giant's crimson eyes roved over their small group, pausing briefly on Loki. His stomach knotted as Laufey spoke.

"The house of Odin is full of traitors…" His deep voice rasped. Loki's mind raced as Thor responded with foolish indignation. Giants gathered round, causing a pang of anxiety in Loki's chest. He warned Thor of the surrounding Giants, clearly outnumbering their pitiful band. Loki negotiated their way out of the situation, wary of the constant tension between Asgard and Jotunheim. He did not want to die for his brother's stupidity. His attempt was nullified as a nearby Frost Giant taunted Thor.

"Run back home, little princess." Loki knew his brother would not be able to ignore the unsophisticated insult.

"Damn," Loki cursed into the frozen air. Within seconds, the group descended into the clash of battle. Loki, equipped with his daggers, nimbly held his own against the Frost Giants. His accuracy was impeccable, and he dodged the Giants' blows by utilizing his ability to duplicate himself. His eyes darted across the landscape, taking note of his fellow Asgardians. Thor annihilated a Frost Giant with his hammer as one of his men was run through with an ice stalagmite. Loki returned his attention to the Frost Giant before him, who had grabbed hold of his arm. Expecting the sting that accompanied such contact, Loki recoiled and pulled his leather glove back, revealing his exposed flesh. The Giant still grasped at his arm, causing Loki's skin to turn a curious shade of blue. He felt no pain as the deep hue spread up his arm. The Giant seemed taken aback by this reaction as well, and paused, giving Loki the perfect opportunity to strike. The Giant fell, and Loki joined his comrades. They soon retreated, rushing back towards the Bifrost.

With a roar, Odin appeared before the group, atop his eight-legged steed. The Allfather confronted the Frost Giants, seeking out their King. After a few moments of terse negotiation, Odin raised his staff, transporting the entire group back into Asgard. The band of warriors scurried off, carrying their wounded companion to the healing room in the palace. Loki's anticipation grew as Odin scolded Thor, demeaning the man that he had nearly crowned King. His anticipation gave way to excitement as Thor shouted back, foolishly defending his visit to Jotunheim. In seemingly one climactic moment, Odin banished Thor to Midgard. He stripped him of his Asgardian power, confiscating his beloved hammer before sending him to the land of mortals. Loki stood in shock, amazed by the efficiency of his scheme. Drunk with confidence, he attempted to speak to his father, but was silenced by a harsh look.

Loki made his way back to the palace. He became aware of a scratch across his cheek, no doubt from the battle only moments before. He removed his gloves as he walked, examining the flesh of his forearm once more. A sickening thought stirred at the back of his mind, which he chose to ignore. A group of servants surrounded him as he entered the palace. The crowd buzzed with excitement and concern, several maids asking of Thor's whereabouts. Loki ignored their questions, determined to reach the servants' quarters. After a brief search, he found Weth alone in her bedchamber. She shared the room with two other maids, whom she openly despised. She rarely slept in her own bed; most nights she spent in Loki's chambers.

She sat on the edge of her bed, her back rigid as she faced the wall. Loki crossed the room and knelt on the mattress behind Weth, winding his arms tightly around her waist. Her body remained stiff as he kissed along the great vein of her neck. She turned to face him, tears streaming down her face.

"You complete imbecile!" She launched on a tirade, her golden eyes molten with anger. "You mindless dolt!" She pounded against his chest. Startled by her fury, Loki's jaw dropped. "Was it not enough for you to visit Jotunheim once?! Do you find amusement in my torment?" She continued to pummel his chest, her fists clenched tightly.

"Darling," he struggled to keep his tone amiable as he restrained her, "I did only what was necessary." She fought to free her arms, tears still streaking her face. He gripped her forearms roughly, causing her to cry out. She twisted out of his hold, biting into the back of his hand. Loki exclaimed at the searing pain. He recoiled, his right hand colliding with her jaw as he did so. The impact knocked her off the bed, causing her to land on her hip on the stone floor. Her eyes widened as her lower lip quivered. She gingerly touched her jawbone.

"Weth, my love," he wanted to vomit. "Please forgive me; I truly did not intend to hurt you." She backed away, fresh tears welling in her eyes. She stood and bolted out of the room. Loki did not attempt to follow her; he did not know if he could forgive himself for striking her—albeit accidentally. He did not expect her to forgive him.


	10. Chapter 10

Loki did not sleep that night. He lay awake in his bed, afraid that he would never again hold Weth. Bitter tears leaked from the corners of his emerald eyes. He had thought that Thor's banishment would ease the misery he had endured all of his life; though Thor's absence brought him some happiness, it was not enough to quell the agony he now felt. He wished that he could find the power to hate Weth; hate her for the years he suffered in longing, for the power that she held over him, for the anguish she brought him. He knew he could never hate this woman. She could claw his heart out of his chest, and he would gladly let her.

The next day, Loki journeyed into the bowels of the palace. The sickening thought in the back of his mind had consumed him, and he desperately needed an answer. He entered the most heavily guarded chamber in Asgard. At the far end of the room was the Casket of Ancient Winters, resting on a stone pedestal. He approached the Casket, his mind racing. He placed his hands on the cube, lifting it slightly. He barely registered booming voice behind him as that same peculiar blue hue colored his skin once again. He closed his eyes.

"Am I cursed?" He knew this was not the case.

"You are my son." Odin countered. Loki turned to face his father.

"What more than that?" He eyed the Allfather, now weary. His lack of response confirmed his worst fear. His mind reeled as Odin attempted to explain. On the day he took the Casket, he found a Frost Giant babe, left to die in the snow. The child was Laufey's son. Loki's surname had never been Odinson—it was Laufeyson. His heart ripped at the seams. He was a monster; the monster parents tell their children about at night. Odin never wanted him to be King.

"It all makes sense now," Loki's voice was hoarse with emotion, "why you favored Thor all these years." He approached Odin, his voice growing in intensity and volume. "Because no matter how much you claim to 'love' me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!" Odin collapsed, falling limp on the floor. Loki searched his face, determining that he had fallen into Odinsleep. He called out for the guards, nauseous from his revelation. They carried Odin to his bedchambers, where he would spend his slumber.

That evening, Loki joined Frigga by Odin's bedside. The fact that he was of Jotun blood made Loki feel distant from her. This pained him, as he had always found his mother to be comforting and unbiased, unlike Odin. He held her hand as she fretted over the Allfather's well-being. When guards entered the chamber, Frigga changed the subject.

"Thor is banished," she said, "the line of succession falls to you. Until he awakens," she gestured at Odin, "Asgard is yours." Loki could not formulate a response. He accepted Odin's spear as it was offered to him, relishing the weight of it in his hands. He smiled, beaming with pride. After all of those years in the shadows, he had finally earned the highest position in Asgard. Despite Odin's horrid favoritism, he had become King. Satisfaction swelled in his chest. He donned his horned helmet and strode to the throne room. Once inside, he inhaled deeply. The scent of the room seemed so much sweeter, the light so much brighter. He ascended the steps to the throne, and seated himself slowly. He leaned back in the golden chair, spreading his legs wide to occupy the entire seat. He closed his eyes for a few moments, savoring his victory.

"Guards!" He barked out towards the entrance. Two men dutifully entered the chamber.

"Yes, my King?" He smirked as he was addressed in this manner for the first time.

"Bring me Weth, the maid." The guards looked slightly puzzled, but obeyed his command. Loki nervously tapped on the arm of the throne as he waited. He had not seen Weth since he unintentionally struck her, and worried that she would reject him. Within a few minutes, the guards returned, Weth shuffling ahead of them. Her eyes were downcast as she entered the chamber. She knelt in the center of the floor.

"Allfather, if the reason for my summons is due to the vase I shattered, then—" her apology was cut short as she glanced up at the throne. Clearly she did not expect to see Loki. Her eyes roved over him, wide with surprise.

"My Lady," Loki began, "you could destroy every vase in this palace, and I would not care. I am the one who must apologize." She stood, stone-faced.

"You are King?" Her casual tone was noticeably forced. Loki nodded, standing as he did so. He approached her slowly, careful not to alarm her. He fell to his knee.

"My love, just as you knelt for me, I will kneel for you." He tenderly reached for her hand. "I never meant harm to you. I did not mean to strike you, and I cannot forgive myself for causing you pain. I can only beg for your forgiveness." He searched her eyes desperately. She sighed, removing her hand from his to stroke the abrasion—still present from the day before—on his cheek. Her eyes softened.

"I forgive you. I must apologize as well; I behaved rashly, and I regret my words." Loki returned to his full height, pulling Weth close. He buried his face in her black tresses.

"You really mustn't apologize," he stroked her curls.

"Hush, darling," she placed her fingertip over his lips, "you are King of Asgard. We must celebrate." An impish smile spread across her lips.

The couple made love atop the throne of Asgard, knowing very well that the guards could hear them. Loki did not care; he had the throne and the woman of his dreams. When they finished, Weth fell asleep in Loki's lap, her head resting on his shoulder. Loki cradled her nude form, basking in ecstasy.


	11. Chapter 11

In the night, Loki and Weth had retreated to his bedchamber. After several rounds of passionate love-making, the two fell asleep in each other's arms. Loki awoke the next morning in Weth's sweet embrace, her legs wrapped around his hips. He remained completely still so as not to wake her. His eyes took in her face, peaceful with slumber. A stray curl had fallen in front of her face, and her lips were slightly parted with the heavy breath of sleep. Loki brushed the strand of hair behind her ear, noticing that her dark lashes nearly reached the top of her cheekbones. He smiled, perfectly content in that moment. Before long, Weth began to stir. She stretched her arms as her lids lifted, revealing her smoldering irises. She smiled, still groggy, and placed her hand on Loki's cheek. She chuckled softly.

"I always manage to ruin your well-groomed hair," she said, her hand moving to straighten his tresses. Loki grabbed her wrist, and pressed a kiss to her palm.

"I love the way you ruin my hair," he asserted with a smirk. She grinned, and planted a kiss on his forehead. Loki pulled Weth close, resting his head on her shoulder. His thoughts began to wander.

He thought of the previous evening's revelation, and his heart sank. He pondered whether or not to tell Weth about his true lineage; he immediately dismissed the thought. He never wanted her to know that he was a Frost Giant. He feared that this realization would cause her to abandon him—he would not blame her for doing so. However, he knew he could not handle such rejection. He felt selfish and cowardly, but those feelings did not sting as much as loneliness. His thoughts then travelled to his status as King. He knew that Odin would eventually wake, and resume the throne. At best, Loki would have to concede to the Allfather. In the dark pits of his mind, Loki feared that Odin would revoke Thor's banishment. The day would soon come when he would have to let go of his power; either to Odin or to Thor. His stomach churned. He failed to notice that Weth was speaking.

"Darling?" She repeated herself, her eyes clouding with concern. Loki snapped out of his reverie, and met her gaze.

"Yes, dove?"

"I recognize that look in your eyes," she knowingly stated, "you are troubled. Tell me what troubles you." Loki was taken off guard by her accurate perception; perhaps she knew him too well. Refusing to unveil his actual origin, he decided to discuss the issue of the throne.

"The Allfather is in Odinsleep, which is a temporary state," he began, fixing his eyes on a freckle beneath Weth's collarbone, "meaning he will wake before long." Weth searched his eyes. Loki chose to be blunt. "I believe my rule will be short-lived." Weth closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"And what after that?" She inquired, reaching for his hand.

"I have not the slightest idea." He solemnly returned.

"Will you fight for the throne?" She propped her head up with her elbow. Loki sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"I can only hope that the Allfather sees me fit to rule."

"This is not the Loki I have come to love," she placed her hand under his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Where is that spark? That desire?" Loki avoided making eye contact by leaning in to kiss Weth's neck.

"I assure you, I am the same." He mumbled against her skin, visions of Frost Giants racing before his eyes. She huffed, clearly irritated with his evasiveness, and turned her back to Loki. He grasped her hips and pulled her close until their bodies were pressed together. He wound his arms around her waist and kissed her shoulder.

"I love you, Weth. More than anything in the nine realms." She melted into his embrace.

"I love you, too."

In a matter of days, Loki's world fell to pieces. He had concocted a scheme in which he lured King Laufey to Asgard; he bribed him—with the promise of returning the Casket of Ancient Winters—to attempt to assassinate Odin himself. The crucial part of this operation was that Loki murdered Laufey just before the assassination attempt occurred; Loki hoped that his faux act of valor would earn Odin's favor. It was all for naught.

Loki mulled over his heritage, and grew to despise it with ferocious venom. He rashly made the decision to destroy Jotunheim, along with the entire Jotun race. He foolishly believed that erasing the entire population would in turn erase his Jotun lineage. This act required the use of the Bifrost, and thus the elimination of Heimdall; wielding the Casket of Ancient Winters, Loki found the ability to freeze him in his tracks. He was well aware of the risk involved; he had not calculated Thor's reappearance into his plan.

Loki discovered that Thor was alive and well on Midgard—albeit powerless. He had sent The Destroyer to exterminate his brother; as King, Loki could easily access this voracious weapon. Loki never imagined that Thor would survive, let alone regain his powers. Thor appeared just as Loki began to destroy Jotunheim. The brothers clashed in vicious battle, deep-seeded resentment fueling Loki's every move. He soon found himself struggling against Thor's mighty strength, and was pinned to the ground. As Loki writhed against his restraint, Thor bashed Mjolnir against the bridge. With a thunderous cracking sound, the Bifrost was sucked into the abyss, dragging the brothers closely behind.

Thor held onto the shattered bridge with one hand, Loki's spear in the other. Loki clutched to the end of the spear, dangling into the void. His heart raced. He turned his eyes upward, and found Odin standing at the edge of the bridge. As Thor slipped, Odin grasped his calf, anchoring him. Odin's face burned with disappointment and anger. Loki could only imagine exactly what the Allfather had seen during his Odinsleep. Childish need ripped through his heart.

"I could have done it, Father!" He cried out, tears stinging his eyes. Odin's face remained stony. "I could have done it! For you! For all of us!"

"No, Loki." Came Odin's frigid reply. In that moment, Loki watched every moment of his life in his mind's eye. He saw a pathetic, cruel boy, undeserving of love or attention. A tear rolled down his cheek. He no longer wanted to live. He let go of the spear, and fell into the chasm. He could hear Thor call out to him as his body plummeted into nothingness. He closed his eyes, drowning in bitter anguish. Tears streamed down his face as he waited for death. In the last moments before he reached his ultimate destination, his eyes snapped open.

"Weth…" he whispered to himself, a fresh wave of agony consuming him.


End file.
